Sunday Funday… Wins

After a small pause in our conversation, on the way home from a beautiful Sunday bday party for a dear friend’s daughter, my husband commented- “You know, I’ve noticed since you started Keppra and then Briviact, you slur your words much sooner and quite a bit more than when you were on Lamictal alone.” I obviously didn’t want to hear such commentary but I always appreciate my husband’s feedback and observations of my behavior as we adjust meds and levels. I can easily tell when one increases hair loss on the head and growth on the chin (ugh lol), but he notices the behavior… and I want- and at the same time don’t always want- to hear how my meds outwardly manifest themselves. He continued with; I know you weren’t intoxicated. You didn’t appear that way at all… I could just tell your tongue was…. “Heavy,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “Heavy.”

It’s true, after a glass of wine it becomes a concentrated effort to force correct, efficient pronunciation to “roll” off my tongue. It doesn’t roll. It feels rounded, overly open… measured. My mind is clear, my body not.

The usual malfunction within myself. For what else is Epilepsy but brain to body miscommunication?

I just wish it wasn’t so transparent.

He said to me others probably didn’t notice… yet, although he’s always honest with me (whether brutally so), I feel this time he sheltered my feelings a bit. Maybe not, but I think so. I felt it so.

Good Lord, at this point I should just be legitimately hammered and fulfill the outer appearance. lol Stop. I’m kidding. It’s only frustration speaking.

I agreed; I felt it. How else could I have finished his sentence? I’ve noticed the outward manifestation of my meds. What else should they do besides weigh me down?… all parts of me, since their aim is to regulate and slow my brain processing. I’m always slow. Trudging. Pushing uphill. That’s what I feel. It’s a constant weight-lifting challenge, swimming through sludge day in and day out…

Our son in the backseat happy from the sweets of cake and interaction with a ton of other over-stimulated munchkins, noticed nothing of our conversation.

And I chose to let it go.

That’s why I take pride in a day where I’ve managed to work several hours and then entertain/teach my child. That’s one hell of a day. One sweet 24 hours… especially if there was a sprinkle of seizures the night before. I guess I reason- what’s an instance of slow speech and slurring when you reconcile it with a Sunday enjoyed with friends?

I look out my front window now as I type and think- why should I care?… especially after the hours of work accomplished last week. Especially after what I’ve trudged through and fought for this week. Especially when I watch the blending of brilliant orange, soft pinks and muted purples as the sun sets.

A heavy tongue I can’t help anymore, but today, I won’t let it turn into a heavy heart… I’ve had a day where there’s too much to be grateful for.